Kynyr ducked back into Kady's room and returned with his knife belt and harness buckled on, sword at his shoulder and fighting knives in place. If I can't get back tonight ... would you take Gram and Kady dancing at the Autumn Hall? I promised to take her."
"I don't know if I can still dance, but I'll try."
Kynyr hugged his grandfather, and then rushed down the stairs.
* * * *
Kynyr accompanied Erskine to the manor. A hush lay over the place. The Great Hall stood empty. Where's Aisha?"
"The Rose Room. Sheradyn wants her to rest and not spend all her time hovering over Claw."
"I know the way."
Kynyr took a deep breath before knocking on the door. When he got no answer, he put his ear to it, remembering how his sisters sometimes refused to answer when they were upset and did not wish to burden the rest of their family with their tears. The sound of soft weeping confirmed that his guess had been correct, and Kynyr slipped inside the room, closing the door behind him.
Aisha started, lifting her face from her hands. She tried to smile through her tears and failed, rising from the brocade sofa to throw herself at Kynyr, sobbing. He's so sick, Kynyr."
He held her close and let her cry for several minutes before guiding her back to the sofa. Kynyr kept his arm around her as they settled together on the soft cushions. No more nights away, Gram. I'll be here when you need me."
Aisha pushed away from him, wiping her eyes with a lace handkerchief, and putting on a brave face. Kady..."
"Kady and I have plenty of time. Kynyr stroked her hair in an ageless gesture of comfort that spoke deeply to their canine side.
"No. Aisha dabbed at her eyes again. I'm not going to let you cut yourself off from her ... trading one for the other is not good."
"I don't know..."
"I have an idea. A wan smile stronger than her previous attempt contradicted her damp eyes. Hold your trysts in the edges of the garden ... or the woods just beyond them. Kady could howl at the window at night when she got here."
"I don't know if she'd do that or not. Kady had been showing a lot of courage in human form, but Kynyr doubted she was prepared to travel to the manor after dark in wolf form.
"Ask her. Write a note and I'll have Robert take it to her."
"Worth a try."
"Another thing, Kynyr. Talk to Cahira. Sheradyn says that Claw's heart is damaged. He isn't going to make it past winter solstice. It would be a kindness, if Cahira would let him know the truth before he dies. He won't tell anyone."
Kynyr considered in silence. Malthus knew ... therefore the enemy knew. Whether it was happenstance, coincidence, or the curse Cahira feared so terribly; keeping his ancestry secret seemed more and more pointless. Let's tell Claw now. Together. I'll make Cahira understand."
* * * *
Claw lay in bed looking more pale than Kynyr had ever seen him. A twinge of anticipated grief told Kynyr that he did not have his recent grief as under control as he had believed. With so much danger all around him, it was not yet safe to allow himself to feel it fully and Kynyr wrestled it down as he approached Claw's bed.
Aisha sat on the edge of the bed, waking Claw with a fond touch of her hand. Beloved, Kynyr has something to tell you."
Claw opened his cobalt eyes. Kynyr?"
Kynyr pulled a chair up and sat down. I've come to make a confession."
"What about?"
Kynyr fumbled for a way to put it, saying awkwardly, You have eight great grandchildren and twelve great-great grandchildren with more on the way."
Claw came more awake and struggled into a sitting position with help from Aisha. A knowing gleam lit his eyes mingled with satisfaction as he asked, for the hundredth time, the question that had never been satisfactorily answered. Who's your grandfather, Kynyr?"
"Your son. Kynyr averted his eyes. Tarrant Redhand."
There. It's out. Kynyr felt as if he had been stripped naked.
"I knew it! I knew you were mine. I've got me a real heir."
Kynyr paled and made a fending off gesture. No. Not me."
"Claw, no. Aisha squeezed her husband's arm to get his attention. You mustn't tell anyone."
"Why not?"
"We suspect the enemy knows about Kynyr. However, it would be better to keep it as much to ourselves as possible for now. Cahira's lie may be the only thing standing between Kynyr and those trying to find and kill him."
Kynyr raised his eyes, darkened by sorrow. They know. The two attempts on my life were not coincidence. When they killed my father ... they called him prince. They killed him because he was your grandson."
Wariness dimmed the excitement in Claw's eyes. I'll keep my mouth shut. I want those murdering bastards caught."
"They were. Not a mon of them survived. Kynyr's expression tightened. However, we don't know who sent them."
Claw nodded and changed the subject. What's this I hear about a Wild Cousins Courtship?"
"Kady and I... Kynyr faltered and flushed.
"Hah! Stick it to her!"
Kynyr's flush deepened to crimson all the way to the roots of his hair as he glanced at Aisha.
His great-grandmother got a tiny, prim smile. I'm leaving before you can embarrass me any further."
She rose, flicked her skirts into place, and left Kynyr alone with his great-grandfather.
"Have you caught her yet?"
"Every time."
Claw chuckled. You're good, Kynyr. Good at everything you put your hand to."
Kynyr sucked in a breath through his nostrils, and stared out the window, remembering the ambush with a twinge of grief. Not everything."
"Sit and talk with me for a while and then have Kissie hang the paintings of your grandfather and his brother in the Blue Room. I had them taken down because every time Aisha looked at them she wept. I think that's changed now ... because we've got you, Kynyr."
* * * *
Darmyk Redhand scuffled his feet along the wooden floor of the hallway, his eyes red and irritated from weeping. He wiped his nose on his sleeve because he had forgotten to bring a handkerchief from his room and he did not wish to go back after it. No one would let him in to see his grandfather and now his cat was missing. The child had extended his wilderkin powers as far as he could and found not the slightest trace of Kenly.
Everyone who he had asked to look for his cat had put him off. They were all too busy or too worried about his grandfather to make time to worry about a cat. They told him to go play, that the cat would return when he was ready to. Darmyk had a feeling that Kenly was not coming back this time and he did not have the words to articulate his fears.
He heard footsteps coming toward him and looked up just in time to see Kynyr before the guardsmon caught him under his arms and lifted the boy off the floor.
Kynyr frowned when he did not get the usual giggle from Darmyk. What's wrong, Little Bear?"
"Kenly's missing, the child said in a woebegone voice. No one will look for him.'
"How long has he been missing?"
"Since last night. Darmyk perked at the note of concern in Kynyr's voice.
"Did you put food in his dish?"
"Yes."
Kynyr shifted Darmyk to his hip and carried him down to the kitchen.
The huge dish of meat sat untouched by the side door.
"If he's not home by nightfall, Kady and I will look for him."
"I like Kady."
"So do I."
* * * *
While the household slept, Malthus crept down to the Great Hall. Something had happened in the afternoon that returned the color to Claw's face and that irritated Malthus. The only one standing between himself and control of Red Wolf Valley was Claw.
Malthus went to Claw's huge, comfortable chair and sat down in it, enjoying the soft goose-down stuffing. Life in the manor as Merissa's husband was much more pleasant than living among the peasants, as he had when he first arrived and claimed refuge for himself and his two nieces at the Sanc
tuary: they stuffed everything with straw. He leaned back, feeling himself already de facto ruler of the Red Wolf Clan. He relished the feeling of power sitting in Claw's chair gave him. Malthus reached for the first pipe on the stand between Claw's chair and the one he normally occupied across from it, and then pulled his hand back, thinking. It would not be wise to do anything that might give his true nature away.
Sheradyn had remarked about the strange coincidences of the old priest, Tempest Anstey, and the mother of the slain lawgiver Nikko Softpaws, having both died of heart failure close together, and now Claw was having heart problems. It was common knowledge that sa'necari could kill by stopping the hearts of their victims with a touch. Claw would have to be the last one he killed that way. By engendering Claw's heart condition in a slow and methodical fashion, Malthus hoped that people would not make a stronger connection to Tempest Anstey and Granta Softpaws, whose deaths had been swift and sudden. He did not want them looking in his direction as a way of explaining those deaths he had caused.
Malthus relaxed more deeply into Claw's chair, savoring the feel of it. His victory would come.
He had already finished with the pipes in Claw's study, now he would do these. The old wolf would be sending for his pipes soon, and Aisha would only be able to put him off for so long before giving in. Malthus eyes handled the darkness without difficulty. He did not need to light a candle or a lamp that would give his presence away to anyone who might be unexpectedly awake at that hour. Taking the first pipe into his hands, Malthus sketched the spell on the bowl and another on the stem. Once the spell had settled into the pipe, insidious and imperceptible, Malthus picked up another, and then another. He finished in less than an hour. This set of spells were twice as strong as the previous ones, as strong as those on the wine bottles that had finally shoved Claw over the edge into his first heart attack. There would be other heart attacks soonthey would arrive in a quickening succession until one finally took the aging chieftain's life.
Each time Claw smoked, it would draw another spell of death into his body, which would settle around his heart. Malthus had been disappointed when Claw survived his heart attack. Perhaps the next one would kill him.
* * * *
Caimbeul reached the camp as the moon hit its zenith. He saw shapes moving stealthily through the camp, most of them ignoring each other in the usual game of let's pretend to secrecy.
"I see you've come back for more."
Caimbeul started from his thoughts and turned to look at Shalto. He smiled slowly with a shrug. I like greasing my stick. Especially when it's free."
"Perhaps we ought to start charging. Shalto scratched at the tan sideburns he had recently grown that contrasted with his black hair. Caimbeul had never seen Shalto in his wolf form, but suspected from the sideburns that Shalto would be a black-masked brown.
Caimbeul laughed softly. Perhaps you should at that. This place of yours is certainly popular enough."
"It's that. I hear you've chosen favorites. You've jacked Clodagh every night this week."
Caimbeul heard the irritation in Shalto's voice. You have no say in that."
Shalto snarled. There's others want time with her. You'll slack off with her."
Caimbeul shifted his weight and rested his fists on his hips above his blades. Are you telling me what to do?"
"I am."
Caimbeul's hand shot out and grabbed Shalto by the throat. He shoved him up against a tree and held him there easily while he squirmed and struggled, dragging impotently at Caimbeul's hand. I don't like people telling me what to do. Especially wet-tailed cubs that think they're fighting dogs. You're not in charge here, Shalto. The others might think you are, but I can see what's really going on. You've got, what, seven in your little gang? Well, I've counted over twenty-five dogs using the bitches here. This operation is entirely too big for a little dog like yourself."
Shalto stopped struggling, his eyes wide. What do you want?"
"I want to meet the mon in charge. I want a piece of it. I can show him how to get better value from it. There are ways around Clan laws that forbid brothels."
"I'll talk to him. But that doesn't mean that you'll get to. It's up to him."
Caimbeul released Shalto with a final shake. See that you do. In the meantime, make certain the others know not to cross me, because I'll take it out on you."
Shalto gave a quick nod and fled. Caimbeul watched him go. So there is indeed someone else running things. Is it the Serpent? Or someone acting on his behalf? Is it Malthus? Certainly, he had the opportunity to set this up while he lived here. But who put those death commands in all the bitches heads? Malthus is human. Or is he?
I've been fooled before. But that time they were posing as lycans. Could the Serpent be one of the young wolves working at the camp? A shape-thief?
He went to Clodagh's longhouse that had once belonged to Beth, the bitch that founded the refugee camp called Sanctuary, and knocked. Clodagh answered her door nude with an unhappy expression on her face. While the lycans had no nudity taboos, few of them would have answered the door like this; especially in an area that had humans around it. She looked tired. Caimbeul guessed that the young dogs must have already been using her, and he wished he had come earlier to chase them off, but he had had matters to attend to in his function as lawgiver.
He disliked admitting it, but he had become fond of her and protective, although he could not yet take action on her behalf. At least not until he had completed his investigation. Caimbeul's heart warmed when he watched her eyes light up at seeing him.
Caimbeul stepped inside the longhouse, which had a room at either end, separated by half walls with a curtained doorway and a window that looked out into the rest of the house. Unlike the rest of the longhouses at Sanctuary, Clodagh had a hearth rather than a simple firepit, and carpeting over the dirt floor. She had nice cabinets beside the hearth and a hand carved table with ornate chairs. Caimbeul had wondered, at first, what could have made her move into the Sanctuary when she had had a much nicer home in one of the better sections of the village. But, then, she had probably not moved here of her own free will. He needed to examine her mind more deeply, but scanning her on the sly while distracting her with sex was not always easy. Over the past weeks, Caimbeul had caught glimpses what he suspected were death commands in both hers and Kandaishee's neural nets.
He turned and dropped the bar.
Clodagh reached for the bar. No, Shalto will be angry with me for not sharing my loins."
"Shalto will keep his mouth shut ... or I'll shut it for him."
He made love to Clodagh in her soft bed, cherishing her body, giving her as much pleasure as he gained from the act; and using it to conceal his psychic explorations of her, of which she was unaware. By the time he covered her with his body and entered her, Clodagh was moaning and writhing. Caimbeul wrapped her in his fireborn aura to block her contacts with the Serpent and loosen her tongue. As he pumped and thrust, his awareness slid through her mind and slithered around sniffing for areas of damage.
He swept through her with a wave of warmth and comfort as he came inside her and rolled off to the side. When is the cub due?"
Despite his efforts to shield her, Clodagh tensed. How did you know?"
Her hands fluttered to her belly.
"I smelled it. Is it his ?"
"You must stop coming around. He'll kill you."
"He'll try."
* * * *
The hour had grown late. Kynyr lounged on a chair in his bedroom, near the open window, wearing a loose robe that he could shrug out of easily the minute he heard Kady howl. He glanced at the full moon. The generous silver light of their god's chariot in the sky made it a good night for tracking. He imagined Tala driving her horses across the heavens, accompanied by her moonwolves. Legend had it that lycan chieftains who served their people well in life became moonwolves after their deaths.
Kynyr began to wonder whether something had happened to Kady or if she had decided
not to come. As the moon reached its zenith, Kynyr speculated on what might have kept Kady from arriving and visions of Preece Malloy haunted him.
A familiar howl came from the woods beyond the manor and Kynyr smiled. He threw off the robe, shifted to his hybrid form, and leaped from the window into the top of a tree. From there he made it to the ground and changed completely. Kady howled again and he headed for the rendezvous. She waited for him along a hawthorn hedgerow. Moonlight limned her pale hair, lending her a ghostly aura.
She rose on her hind legs and danced around him. I get a head start. "
" Wait ."
Kady settled on her haunches, her head tilted at a quizzical angle.
"I thought we were going to romp."
Kynyr gave her a sidewise glance. Much as I would like to spend the entire night riding your back. This is more urgent. It's going to rain tomorrow. I can smell it ."
"So?"
"Claw had a heart attack and Kenly went missing the same night. They're Darmyk's two main protectors . Kynyr set off into the trees, circling the manor in a methodical fashion.
Kady trotted along beside him. "That doesn't sound like happenstance."
"The rain will wash away the scent clues."
Kynyr moved through the forest with his nose to the ground. A twinge of grief flashed through him, remembering how Ramsey had always had the best nose.
"Are we searching for Kenly?"
"There it is. I've picked up his scent."
They trotted through a stand of willows. The spear like leaves had turned brown and would soon be littering the ground. Beyond the willows, a clearing opened. Kynyr put his nose to the ground, sniffing along the edges. He circled it twice and then sat down in the middle of it.
" This is strange. Kenly entered but he didn't leave." Kynyr rose and found a spot of black soil where the unmistakable imprint of a horseshoe broke the ground. "Horses. That's how Kenly left."
Kady gave a long howl of anguish.
Kynyr spun about and saw her writhing on the ground, alternating between bouts of whimpering and howling. Lines of power wrapped her like a spider's web, black against her white coat. He had missed the spelltrap in the darkness, forgotten about Kady's fledgling gifts that made her vulnerable to such things.
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